


Kiss a Ginger Day

by EventHorizon



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Kiss a Ginger Day, M/M, mystrade, pre-Mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-07-10 23:09:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7011952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EventHorizon/pseuds/EventHorizon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a certain day rolls around, Greg is reminded of a little something and, to his good fortune, has a chance to explore the matter in more depth...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kiss a Ginger Day

      “Ah, Detective Inspector.  I see Sherlock is again providing cause for agitation.”

      “Oh, not really, sir.  But, I got a tad concerned when he shoved some papers into his pocket and refused to show them to me.  This is a serious matter, as murders tend to be, and if he’s withholding evidence, I’m not in the mood to dance through the arrest process to get him to produce it.  My knee is feeling dodgy today and a pirouette would cripple me.”

      “Hence the request for my attendance.”

      “It seemed the most expedient solution.”

      “On occasion.  Although, my presence in the vicinity can also rile Sherlock into the most intractable mindset against whatever cause I am there to promote.”

      “Ummm hmmm…”

      “Detective Inspector?”

      “What?  OH!  Yes, yes he can be a surly, stubborn bastard, that’s true, but he’ll do that with me, too, so another prod to the bull might hurry this along.”

      “I see.”

      “Good…”

      “Detective Inspector?”

      “Sir?”

      “What on earth are you doing?”

      “Standing.  It’s a talent.”

      “And, what are you doing besides standing?”

      “Lots!  Breathing, hearing, feeling an itch grow behind my ear…”

      “None of which involves my hair.”

      “That… that it doesn’t.  Well spotted, sir.”

      “Might in inquire why you, therefore, are paying it such rapt attention?”

      “I’m staring into the middle distance.”

      “Incorrect.”

      “It was worth a try.”

      “Unfortunately, there are no prizes awarded for effort.”

      “Good to know.”

      “Will you now answer my question?”

      “What’s the penalty for saying no?”

      “Something you dare not contemplate.”

      “Ooh… that sounds painful.  Or messy.  Or both.”

      “Proceed.”

      “Well… it’s just… Sherlock mentioned something once and today being today it brought it back to mind and I was just trying to see anything for myself.  How’s that?”

      “Supremely uninformative.”

      “Is there a prize for that?”

      “Sadly, no.  It is as lacking in acclaim as your last salvo.”

      “Pity that.  I was hoping for some good to come from today, but there’s always tomorrow, I suppose.”

      “I will concede that you are quite tenacious at avoiding direct questions, if that is of assistance.”

      “Hurray!  Lestrade scores in the final seconds of the match!”

      “Is that a sports reference?”

      “Yes.”

      “Explaining your exuberance, I am certain.  Now, may we return to the original reason for our dance?”

      “Can’t dance.  Dodgy knee, remember.”

      “Detective Inspector…”

      “Fine!  No seething at a crime scene.  It’s the law, sir.  I’m sorry, but it is.  And… it’s nothing, really, Sherlock simply remarked once that you were… more _colorful_ when you were a lad than you are now and I was curious about it.”

      “Colorful?  As in clownish or theatrical, for that is surely his area of expertise.”

      “No, colorful as in… full of color.  Hair color, specifically.  Oh, you must know what I mean because you’ve got that look that you usually only get when Sherlock’s slipped his leash and gone amok into the general public.”

      “I see.  My brother has been telling tales.”

      “That’s what I wanted to know!  Was it true or not.”

      “I see.”

      “You say that a lot.”

      “Thank you for bringing the matter to my attention.”

      “You’re welcome.”

      “Well, as you can observe, my hair is most certainly not ginger.”

      “Uhhh….”

      “Pardon?  Kindly do not groan at me if there are words to be used instead.”

      “Sorry, sir.  Didn’t mean to be unnecessarily groany.  And, I’d say that no, you’re not precisely ginger, but it looks like, now that I can see things more closely, just what I’ve seen for other men who were gingery in their youths, but it darkened as they aged.”

      “I believe you are mistaken.”

      “I believe I am not.  Don’t forget, sir, I have a witness.”

      “One who believes truth is a rather blandly-named pasta.”

      “One who knew you as a lad and will testify that there was more fire in your locks than there is now.  Not one of those blokes whose head looks like a house ablaze, perhaps, but… I suspect that if you’re in the sun long enough we would see some interesting glints of days past, wouldn’t we.” 

      “Nonsense.”

      “Are you sure?”

      “If there was one to know such a thing, I do believe it would be me.”

      “True… alright, then.  Never mind.”

      “Very well.  However…”

      “Yes?”

      “Out of curiosity… what was the ‘today being today’ business?”

      “No idea what you’re talking about.”

      “Detective Inspector!”

      “Is it often you hear things, Mr. Holmes?”

      “I most certainly was not hearing things!”

      “I heard _that_ sure enough.  You can’t be quite loud when you have a mind for it.”

      “Lestrade!”

      “You really don’t want to know, sir.  It was just a silly thing, anyway.”

      “I truly do not want to use extreme measures…”

      “Are we back to painful and messy again, sir?”

      “We are.”

      “Drat.  Alright… it’s like this.  Today is Kiss a Ginger Day and it reminded me what Sherlock said about your hair.  That’s really all there is to it, sir.  Just a silly thing that had my attention for a moment or two.  Please don’t kill me.”

      “’I see.  No, do strike that for I recognize the repetition.  There is… who in the name of creation creates these ridiculous ‘days?’ “

      “I don’t know sir, but if you find out, I’ll run the bastard in, if you like.”

Mycroft huffed and tapped the top of his shoe with his umbrella a few times, huffing again before turning to face Lestrade who was thinking of a way to either turn invisible or shrink to a size that was small enough to accomplish the same goal.

      “Oh, very well.”

      “Excuse me, sir?”

      “There are standards to be upheld, I suppose.”

      “Is this about me losing my head?”

      “In a roundabout way, perhaps it is.  But, do begin for we have another pressing matter to attend to and that one is beginning to gather a crowd of annoyed individuals around him, which never bodes well for anyone.”

      “B…begin?”

      “Yes.  Oh, I probably should make my confession for veracity’s sake.  When I was a child and a younger man, my hair was somewhat tinted with a more coppery hue than it now boasts.”

      ‘You’re ginger?”

      “No, but if genetics are to be taken into account, I do bear the proper alleles, though their expression has been modified over the years.”

      “I…”

      “I’m waiting.”

      “Really?”

      “Does it appear as if I am committing a jest?”

      “No, that it doesn’t.  Alright, then…”

Lestrade leaned in and let his lips gently touch Mycroft’s.

Then, firmly touch Mycroft’s.

Then firmly touch with a step closer to the man he was kissing.

The firmly touch with the slightest run of his tongue along the lips of the man he was kissing as that man draped his hands on Lestrade’s hips.

Then smolderingly touch, open mouth, with hands wrapping around Mycroft’s waist while Mycroft let his own roam across Lestrade’s back.

Then…

      “NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!”

      “Shit.  We’ve killed Sherlock.”

      “His pallor _is_ somewhat more pallid than usual, but it is difficult to properly evaluate given his death throes distorting the image.”

      “Should we help him?”

      “No… I do believe that is one of your associates plucking the necessary information out of Sherlock’s pocket, diminishing Sherlock’s usefulness in this situation to nil.”

      “Good man, that Anderson.  Always taking advantage of an opportunity.”

      “A very sound strategy.”

      “One… maybe we should try.”

      “I was going to suggest something very similar, in point of fact.”

      “May I buy you a cup of tea while we discuss strategies and suggestions?”

      “A very agreeable offer.  But first…”

This time, Mycroft leaned in and kissed Lestrade, very tenderly, but with such an infusion of passion that the DI felt it down to his toes.

      “I am certain I left unremarked ‘Kiss a Silver Day’ and would hate to be accused of violating societal tradition.”

      “Very admirable of you, sir.”

      “And we shall discuss the ‘sir’ over tea, I believe.  Or rather, it’s banishment.”

      “I’m looking forward to that.”

      “As am I.”

      “YOU HAVE RUINED THE UNIVERSE!”

      “I’ll call John to drag him home.”

      “Very good.  One should be with one’s loved ones when the universe is being torn asunder.”

      “I’ll try to remember that.”

      “Fret not.  I harbor a suspicion I shall be there to remind you.” 

**Author's Note:**

> If this seems familiar to you, it was originally posted on [my tumblr](http://eventhorizon451.tumblr.com) on the actual day of this momentous event ;-)


End file.
